Marisa 9: Ginslinger Girl
by Prof. Voodoo
Summary: While convalescing in the SWA Hospital, Marisa daydreams about what life would be like as a "normal girl."


It was chilly for a summer morning. Stiff, and still a little bit hung over, Elio rode his Ducati through the gate of the SWA compound. The old spy did not stop at the handler's office building, but steered straight to the hospital parking lot & arrived just in time to find the night shift leaving for home.

Marianna gave him a wave as she unlocked the door of her Ford Focus hatchback. "_Ciao_, Mr. A, did you finally get some decent sleep last night?"

"Not as much as I'd have liked" muttered Elio, pulling his helmet off with a tired smile.

The doctor in her looked at him disapprovingly. "That was the first time you've been home in a week."

"Longer than that," he corrected, "I was on that stakeout in Sicily for a whole week before Marisa even got shot, so Chief Lorenzo has been alone for the past two weeks. To be honest, I think he likes having a house-mate, because as soon as I got to his place last night he had the scotch & cigars ready."

"The boss-man gets lonesome too I guess" chuckled Marianna.

Alboreto nodded his head and replied "I had kind of been neglecting my old mate, so even though I was dog-tired we stayed up _way_ too late, drinking whisky and chattering like 'Etta & Rico."

"You should have stayed home and come in late then" she chided, "you really pushed yourself too hard last week, with poor Mari's withdrawals and all that."

"Eh, who needs sleep?" he joked, "I slept plenty when I was young."

"Yeah right," said Marianna, climbing into her Focus, "just take it easy old fella; we don't want to be treating you next. As for me, I'm going home to get a little sleep of my own. _Buongiorno_ Mr. A."

As he watched her drive off the tired handler considered what she had said. A few days lying in a hospital bed didn't sound bad right about now.

**_Coming Down_**

No matter how hard Marisa stared at the minute hand of the clock she could not get it to move any faster. The idea had come from a stack of ragged eared comic books provided by the medical staff, and taken root during the long hours when Mari could not sleep and had only the clock for company. Despite her best efforts to emulate the comic book superheroes who could speed or slow time with their minds, the young cyborg came to the reluctant conclusion that the only way to make the hours pass was to just wait them out.

"Hey lass, how are we doing this fine morning?" It was Elio, and the girl's heart sang. She'd had plenty of visitors during her convalescence, but like any cyborg she looked forward to time spent with her handler the most.

"I'm feeling a lot better" she told him, just like she did every morning. "I didn't have _any_ attacks last night, and before Dr. Donato left he said my conditioning levels are holding steady, right where we want them."

Elio pulled a chair close to her bed and checked over the chart, which confirmed his trainee's words. He was pleased to see that her breakfast tray was empty, just a few days ago she could not hold down a scrap of food. "This looks good. Are you still having any pain?" The torments she had experienced during her conditioning withdrawals had gotten so bad that the young cyborg had to be restrained for hours at a time.

"A little" she admitted, "mostly at night when there isn't anything else to think about."

"You should be sleeping" he replied in a gentle growl.

The girl slumped back in her bed with an exaggerated sigh. "I can only sleep so many hours in a day. I've been stuck in this bed for _ages_! When can we get back to work?"

"You're not strong enough yet" he told her for what seemed like the thousandth time. The blood poisoning she had suffered as a result of her artificial kidney failure was to blame for the slow recovery of her cyborg strength.

"But I _feel _fine!" Marisa whined, "I'll never get any stronger sitting here in bed!"

This called for the usual demonstration; Alboreto stood up and fetched a foam-rubber ball from the windowsill. "Okay, let's see how you're doing...see if you can hit the trash can."

"Not this again" she groaned, knowing the exercise would result in her losing this argument.

"Just shoot at the basket" ordered the handler, giving her the ball. Marisa lined up the shot...made sure her elbow was tucked in...judged the distance, and launched the foam projectile. It flew in a graceful arc, right on target, but fell to the ground with a dull thump, less than halfway to the trash can. Although Mari had known exactly what was going to happen, this daily reminder of her feeble condition still sucked the happiness from her morning. _I don't even have the strength of a normal girl._ Crestfallen, she flopped back on her pillow without a word. Elio sat back down and wiped the hair from his frowning student's face. "Mari, I know it's difficult, but you just have to be patient. You survived your injuries, you fought through the conditioning withdrawals like a champ, and now we just have to wait for your strength to return."

"Patience sucks" she muttered, drawing a laugh from her handler. To him the simple fact that she could function and carry on a conversation seemed like a miracle after the darkness of the last few days.

After Marisa's condition had been stabilized following her gunshot injuries from Sicily the painful process of reducing her conditioning levels had begun. The withdrawals had been brutal on her. She alternated between deep body chills and dangerous fevers. For 2 days she had not been able to hold any food down, eventually needing to be fed intravenously. Occasionally Marisa slipped into hallucinations, and was taken by the terrifying impression that she had slipped back into her former life, something both scary & heartbreaking for those that witnessed it.

Elio did not leave his student's side for a full 3 days, sleeping in a recliner chair that had been dragged into the room by some accommodating hospital orderlies. During her worst chills Elio sat in this chair & held Marisa in his lap, wrapped in a blanket but still shivering. During her fevers he kept her covered in cold towels and ice. The old spy lost count of how many bedpans of vomit he had to empty.

The worst came during her daily dialysis sessions. Mari spent 2 hours each afternoon hooked to the machine which filtered toxins, as well as excess medication from her blood. During these hours she felt her most significant conditioning declines, and her symptoms became violent. Ironically, the temporary loss of her cyborg strength made things easier...she still needed to be restrained to avoid ripping out her dialysis lines, but at least this could be done with soft straps instead of steel shackles.

On the 4th day Marisa fell asleep comfortably for the first time; and Elio was able to go get a few hours of rest in his office. When he returned there was a new complication to deal with. Prior to her injuries, Mari's anxiety attacks had dropped to perhaps one every two weeks, but during withdrawals they were back with a vengeance. The young cyborg suffered 6 attacks in one single day.

The symptoms declined on the 5th & 6th days, and with his young charge slowly returning to her normal self Elio felt it was safe to finally spend the night at home on the 7th day since her surgery. In a few days she would be back in the dorm, and ready to resume training as if nothing had ever happened. When Elio had gotten shot it had taken him 7 _months_ to return to duty, plus 5 years to kick the drug dependency. These cyborgs never ceased to amaze him.

After sitting with her for an hour Alboreto glanced at his watch. "Sorry kiddo, it's almost 9 o'clock...I told the Chief I would sit in on his morning conference call with Minister Petris at 9:15."

"Okay" she sighed, "but you're coming back at lunchtime, right?"

Elio had not really planned on it, but he replied "Sure. Anything special you want me to bring from the dining hall?"

"Whatever...as long as it's not hospital food!" the red-head laughed. "Mr. Pagani said he would bring me some more of his French cooking, but not until dinnertime."

The handler looked at his trainee suspiciously and asked "You aren't taking advantage of people's sympathy, are you?" The girl blushed a little, and wore a sneaky, impish grin on her face.

Elio was gone, the hospital staff was busy with their own duties, and all the other girls were busy with morning training or classes, so Marisa had no visitors to look forward to for the rest of the morning. She had a television in her room, a rare treat since those were forbidden in the dorm, but she quickly discovered that there was absolutely nothing worth watching on morning television. Marisa had a small stack of DVD movies, but she had seen them all a half dozen times already, and she'd read so many books & magazines over the last few days that her eyes hurt. The room had a window, but it looked out over a small patch of forest and only reminded Mari of how much she would rather be outside.

For the young cyborg there was nothing left to do now but lay back & watch the ceiling fan spin. Her mind wandered; _"what if I wasn't laying here in this bed"_ thought Mari, _"what if I hadn't gotten shot at all? What if Elio & I had a life that didn't involve getting shot at...ever? What if I was his…normal girl?"_

**_Daydream_**

"Give up, you can't beat that!" teased the black haired boy. His one euro coin sat only 2 centimeters from the wall, and with only one kid left to shoot, a girl no less, he was confident of victory.

Marisa not one to be psyched out by big talk though. She shoved the braggart out of her way and got down into position, bare knees on the cool cobblestones. "Watch and learn Marco..." she muttered, lining up her shot carefully. The kids were all silent...Mari exhaled, and flipped her own coin with a practiced thumb. It sailed forward in a high arc, deflected off the stone wall and bounced to a full stop on the cobblestones below. The other 5 kids rushed forward to see the result; it was close, but Marisa's coin was clearly closer to the wall, if only by a few millimeters. "That is how you do it!" she boasted, proudly scooping up all 6 coins.

"Awww, come on, double or nothing!" complained Marco.

Their game was interrupted by shouts from up the alley. "You children had better not be gambling against the house of the Lord!" warned an angry old priest, rapping his cane against the wall. _Perhaps the side of a church was not the best place to toss coins_, they all considered.

"Run!" exclaimed one of the girls, but none of them needed any prompting. The 6 children dashed through the alleys & ancient back streets cutting through back-yards and hopping over walls, attracting scolding shouts and shaking fists from grown-ups all along the way. It was all harmless fun though, and even the grumpiest adult was left with a smile as the band of diminutive hooligans cut a course through his or her garden. Reaching a public park the gang stopped, feeling they had safely escaped.

"Oh man, do you think Father Luccio recognized us?" laughed Fredo, a tall skinny boy who was the son of a local baker.

"I hope not," giggled a fair haired girl named Dalia, panting and bending over with her hands on her knees "my Mama was so angry the last time we got caught...I got in _so much_ trouble!" All the children laughed. The hours after school would just be no fun if they didn't get chased by an angry adult at least once.

Marco was eager to get back to the game, and hopefully win his money back. "Where are we gonna play next? Maybe over by the fish market?"

"No way!" exclaimed Jasmine, an olive skinned girl whose parents came from North Africa, "My Father works over there."

"I'm tapped out anyway" admitted Fredo. It wasn't an entirely honest statement, but he didn't want to lose the rest of his money to better players.

"Come on, somebody must still want to play" complained Marco, the main instigator of the group, "Dalia? Vito? I know Marisa isn't chicken..."

Dalia crossed her arms and replied "You're just being a sore loser."

"I gotta go anyway" sighed Marisa with a glance at her watch, "I've gotta go help my Papa at the tavern and if I'm late for work again _I'm_ gonna be the one who's sore!" The other kids waved goodbye, and Mari snatched up her book bag before dashing home.

That Thursday afternoon was like any other at _Taverna Tifosi_. The old men sat and drank their grappa under the ceiling fans, playing endless games of dominoes & arguing about anything that came to mind. There was a football match on the television, and a few workmen watching it (apparently taking the world's longest lunch break), silent until there was a shot on goal, whereupon they shouted and pounded their fists on the table.

At the bar stood the owner & proprietor, one Signor Elio Alboreto, splitting his attention between the game on TV, the conversation amongst his old regulars, and the levels of everyone's drinks. Occasionally a group of tourists would wander in, and he would give them a short tour of the Formula One memorabilia that covered his walls...the bar was after all, only a half-hour's walk from the legendary _Autodromo Monza_, historic site of the Italian Grand Prix.

The door flew open and in rushed the red-haired girl, still in her school uniform. Elio gave a glance at the clock, but just smiled & said nothing. It was her choice to help out at the bar, so he seldom got angry with her about being late. None of the workmen watching their football match paid the new arrival any mind, but the old men drinking grappa greeted her warmly. "Marisa, so good to see you...did you study hard in class today?"

"Si signori, and how are all of you today?" she replied courteously, putting down her school-bag to wipe their table off with a damp towel. As usual it was littered with empty pistachio shells.

"Very bad!" joked one bald man, "Your Papa is being especially cheap today! I pay for my drinks and every time I look my glass is empty again!" He drank his grappa in one quick slug and lifted the glass to show her. "See...empty again!"

Another man took his turn to tease the owner's daughter; "So do you have a boyfriend at school yet?" he inquired, "Don't worry, you can tell me, I won't tell your Papa."

She was quick with an answer. "Signor D'Martino, don't you remember, I'm going to marry _you_ when I get old enough!"

"You remember that?" he chuckled "You were only 6 years old when you told me that!"

"And you said _yes_, so I'm holding you to it" Marisa teased.

"Well we better not talk too loud about it, or your Papa is going to kick me out of his bar."

Elio, who was polishing beer mugs, called out from the bar; "Not at all Vincenzo...I approve wholeheartedly. This marriage will save me a lot of money because I won't have to pay a dowry...I'll just forgive that huge bar tab you're probably never going to pay off." The entire tavern laughed at his jab, even the silent workmen watching their game.

Mari collected the empty glasses from each table and carried her tray behind the bar. Her father leaned down and allowed her to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "So how was your day?" he asked, in a quieter voice. The two spoke privately as life went on amongst the customers.

"I aced my mathematics exam...and I won all my matches at fencing practice, even one against a high-schooler" she told him, carefully selecting only the positive elements of her day. Unfortunately her father already knew about the other parts.

"Is that all?" Elio asked, "I got a call from your head-mistress this afternoon...something about you being late this morning?"

"Oh yeah..." she replied. It wasn't the first time.

He continued; "More importantly, she mentioned something about you fighting on the playground, after lunch."

"I can explain that!" she quickly defended herself. "These jerks were picking on the new boy, just because his family moved here from Serbia and he doesn't have any friends yet!"

"So you clobbered them..." he finished her thought.

"I sure did!" Marisa reported proudly, but then dialed back her boastfulness a bit, "I mean, just to stop them from picking on the new kid."

Elio put down the mug he'd been polishing and sat on a low stool so he could look at his girl eye to eye. "This new boy is a friend of yours?"

"Ummm, not really" admitted the girl.

"So, were you really looking out for his interests," he asked "or was he just a convenient excuse to get into a fight without getting in trouble for it?"

Mari looked down at her shoes and confessed "I guess it's the second choice...but you _did _say I wasn't in trouble, right?"

Her father laughed, and put his arm around her. "That's right" he told her. "What you did was noble...sticking up for a stranger...but think about what might really help this new boy. Perhaps if you welcomed him, and helped him make some friends he wouldn't have problems with bullies anymore, eh?"

He could always do this...take a situation and show it to her from a different perspective that she had not considered. "You're right" Marisa sighed "as _always_."

"Don't look so down about it" replied Elio, "you did a good thing...all you have to do now is finish the job."

That part of the conversation seemed over, so Mari changed the subject. "It's almost the weekend...do you think we could drive down to the coast and go diving?" She'd had her PADI Junior SCUBA certification for over a year now, and was eager to get underwater any time they got a chance.

Her father frowned. "I'm sorry, _innamorato_, but you know the weekends are my busiest days here at the tavern. I can't just leave Yvette & Tessa alone to run the place by themselves all weekend."

"We _never_ have the same days off...I get the weekends and you only take Mondays" the girl lamented, sullenly going to work polishing shot glasses. It was a conversation they had repeated many times.

"You have a school holiday coming up soon" Elio reminded, "I know I usually only take Mondays off, but this time I'll take 4 days and we'll go over to San Remo. How does that sound?"

_"4 whole days!"_ she thought excitedly. She could not remember the last time her Papa took 4 days in a row off. "It sounds great!" she exclaimed.

Elio gently tousled her hair a bit, which made the girl laugh. "Alright, we've been neglecting the customers...let's see who needs a refill."

2 hours later, just as the evening business was starting to pick up, Yvette entered through the back door. Although Marisa would have preferred to stay and work longer, the arrival of the night-shift barmaid was her cue to head upstairs for the night and start her homework...it was not worth arguing this point with her father.

Gathering her book-bag she walked up the stairs to the second floor, which was she & her father's private residence. As was normal, Papa had prepared dinner and left it in the oven; all that was left for her to do was turn it on to 200 degrees Celsius and let the ziti bake for 45 minutes.

Kicking off her shoes, Marisa flopped down on the living room couch and turned the television on as she opened her history textbook. Her father frowned upon TV watching during homework time but the girl rationalized it by turning the channel to RAI Uno and watching the news. _News is just recent history, right?_

"_In our top story tonight; violence escalates even as Padania politicians offer public denouncements of bombings in Rome, Genoa & Milan. Minister of Defense Monica Petris released a statement today directly implicating the Padania political movement with terrorist activities of the radical right-wing Five Republics Faction..._"

"_I wonder where __I__ stand on this issue_" thought Marisa. There was plenty of support for Padania in and around Monza, but plenty of vocal opposition as well. Her teachers had explained that Padanians were angry about tax money from the rich, industrial north going to fund projects in the south & wanted to split the Republic of Italia into 5 separate nations. _"Does that mean Elio & I can never go down to Naples or Sicily to dive?"_ she worried. Monza was in the north, only a few kilometers from Milan..._"Does that mean I should support the Padania side?"_ It did not feel right. The right wing speakers she heard on the news always seemed to be complaining about immigrants from other countries, which seemed cruel & selfish to Marisa. A lot of her friends were immigrants, or had parents who came from other countries. She and Papa always bought their fish from Jasmine's parents, who came from Egypt...and even her own father had grown up in England (although he _was_ half-Italian). _"What does the Padania have against people coming to a place that has good jobs and lots of money? If the north is so rich don't we have enough to go around? Doesn't that create more wealth for everybody?"_

Marisa wished her Papa would talk to her about it; he could always make things so simple to understand. She turned the volume down on the television and began working on her history homework. _"Ancient Rome was powerful because it was united & diverse...wealth benefited not only the capitol, but the entire Empire. Even so, some of the people in conquered territories still hated Rome."_ That only made things more confusing...she knew that studying history was important as a way of understanding modern times, but how did that example fit with all that was going on all around her? The girl sighed. _"I knew I should have started with maths."_

By the time 45 minutes had elapsed Mari had finished her history, mathematics, and all that was left was a short essay for art class. The ding of the oven timer's bell signaled her that it was time to take a break. Donning two heavy oven mitts she removed the baked ziti from the oven and set it out to cool. Next she cut some crusty bread and put it in a basket. Marisa set two places at the kitchen table; the apartment had a very nice dining room but the father & daughter seldom used it unless guests were coming over. A quick check of the refrigerator confirmed that Papa had also made a salad (heavy with the feta cheese & black olives she loved), so she placed that on the table last. The girl was not sure if her father would want wine tonight, so she left that part up to him, and set glasses for both vino & water. All was ready, and right on schedule she heard heavy footsteps coming up the staircase.

"Everything looks great, good job" Elio complimented, which made his girl laugh.

"_You_ did it all;" replied Mari "the only thing I had to do was turn the oven on."

"And a fine job you did at it. Plus, you set a beautiful table." He went to the wine cabinet (a much smaller version of the closet sized walk-in cooler downstairs in the tavern) and selected a vintage. Without allowing his daughter to see the label he quizzed; "So what type of wine goes well with a pasta & cheese dish in a tomato based sauce?"

"A Chianti; would that be right?"

He turned the bottle to display her correct choice, and added "Very good." After pulling the cork he poured some into the glass she had optimistically set for herself, leaving it about half full.

Father & daughter sat eating dinner, talking about unimportant things...just generally enjoying each other's company. It was a pleasant and very average evening in both of their lives. Once he was done Elio looked at his watch and sighed "I better get back down there." Marisa fixed a plate for Yvette, and when her father had left, washed the dinner dishes. She finished the last of her schoolwork and watched television until Papa came upstairs one more time to tuck his girl into bed.

**_The Piazza_**

Elio always closed the tavern around 2am, and got to bed about an hour later after counting his inventory and reconciling the cash register. He was back up only four hours later though, to see Marisa out the door to school.

This Friday morning the girl was eager to get an early start, so as to avoid another call from the school's headmistress. Papa would forgive the occasional tardiness, but could be depended upon to crack down quickly if he felt it was becoming a habit. She dressed quickly in her uniform; a grey skirt, white blouse, matching blue knee socks & sweater.

"You look awful!" she giggled, sitting down to a simple breakfast with her father. He mumbled something under his breath that Mari could not make out. She felt guilty that he gave up his own sleep just to see her off each morning, but had to admit it was nice to begin the day with her father. Most mornings he slipped back into bed for a few hours after she had gone...the bar didn't open until two in the afternoon. "I thought I might drop by the new boy's house this morning on the way to class. You know...the one from Serbia."

"That sounds nice" Elio replied, taking a sip of orange juice to wet his mouth. The fact that he hadn't made any coffee told Marisa that he was indeed planning to go back to bed as soon as she was gone. "Just be careful, there's supposed to be a demonstration in the piazza near the Central Bank this morning. There's going to be police and a lot of hot headed protesters on both sides, so avoid that area..._hai capito_?"

"Yes sir" she answered, but after the news broadcast she'd seen last night it seemed like an irresistible temptation to take just a_ little_ peek.

* * *

A kind faced woman in a head-scarf answered the door. Once she saw the uniform Marisa wore she said "Oh, good morning, you must be one of Mehmet's little classmates." A pretty girl with curly dark hair, perhaps 4 or 5 years old clung to her mother's long skirt, but overcame her shyness to smile at Marisa.

"Yes Ma'am, I was wondering if he wanted to walk to school together."

"He's just finishing his breakfast...have you eaten yet?" the mother asked.

Marisa nodded her head and replied "I ate with my father this morning."

"How very nice." The woman spoke Italian very well, but with a thick eastern European accent. At about that moment Mehmet came rushing outside wearing his uniform, identical to Mari's except for the fact that the boys wore grey slacks. He also wore a cylindrical hat with no brim...black but richly embroidered. Marisa remembered it from the day before; the bullies she clobbered had pulled it off his head and thrown it down in the dust, but it was perfectly clean now. "Mehmet, dear, one of your friends from school is here."

"Oh, good morning!" he said cheerfully and informally.

"Hi-ya." she replied with equal informality.

His mother brushed a few breakfast crumbs off the front of her son's sweater and asked "So how do you two know each other?" The boy looked to Marisa nervously.

"We're in a few of the same classes" she answered, and Mehmet breathed a sigh of relief.

Before the boy could escape, his mother hugged him tight and planted a wet kiss on his cheek. He flushed pink with embarrassment, and Mari could not hold back a giggle. "Study hard...go straight to school & come straight home" she warned, addressing her instructions to both students on her front steps, "there are dangerous men making trouble in town today. Stay away from the piazza!"

As the two began their walk to school, Mehmet turned to Marisa and said "Thanks for not telling my Momma about...you know...what happened yesterday."

"Oh, you mean getting rescued by a _girl_?" teased the red-head. "I wasn't gonna embarrass you like that. Those guys are jerks anyway; they only picked on you because they thought they could get away with it."

"Well, thank you," he replied earnestly, "but I don't even know your name."

"Sorry!" she laughed "It's Marisa...Marisa Alboreto."

He smiled; "That's nice, I'm Mehmet Zlatar."

"I like that name...it's cool!" Mari told him.

The boy was not as enthusiastic. "I wish I had a normal Italian name like everybody else in school."

"But that's why it's so cool," Marisa protested, "nobody else has a name like that!"

"It's easy for _you_ to think stuff is cool just because it's different; you don't have to live with it" grumbled the boy, kicking stones down the sidewalk, "I get picked on and beaten up just _because_ I'm different. Different name. Different church. Different hat. Different everything." Marisa did not have an answer for that.

They had walked halfway to school when Mari paused at a corner. "What are you waiting for?" asked her new friend.

"It's shorter this way" she told him, with a sneaky smile on her face.

Mehmet was not fooled. "That's also the piazza where the demonstration is going on!"

"It is?" she asked, feigning ignorance, "Well, maybe we could just take a quick look, and see what's going on."

"Are you crazy!" hissed the boy, "My parents both said it was very dangerous!"

"Are you scared?" Marisa baited him.

"Of my parents? Yes!" snapped Mehmet, "What about your mother & father?"

"It's only my father" she corrected.

"And...?"

Mari sighed "...and he told me to stay away. But we're not going to stay and hang out...we'll just take a quick look around and go straight to school!"

The boy rolled his eyes and muttered "Why am I even considering this?" That was enough encouragement for Marisa. She grabbed him by the wrist, and the two ran the final block to the piazza together.

Laid out before them was a chaotic & exciting scene. A speaker stood on a dais in the center of the piazza, flanked on both sides by grim men in dark sunglasses, standing silently with their arms crossed. There were flags on the dais as well...the city crest of Milan, the green & white Lombardy provincial flag, and a banner Marisa did not recognize. It was white, and at the center was a red flower with 5 petals...or maybe they were spokes, like the spinning wheel on India's flag. Encircling the device was a ring, also red.

The speaker banged his fist and shouted slogans, but it was difficult to hear what he said over the shouts of the crowd. Some cheered at his words, but others booed and waved their fists. Most in this dissenting part of the crowd waved the _tricolore_ of the Italian Republic. A third group separated the two factions, but these police in riot gear seemed woefully outnumbered.

"Have you seen enough?" hissed Mehmet, as the two children stood at the periphery and watched the scene unfold. Neither could take their eyes off the boiling, angry crowd. Just as Mehmet tugged on Marisa's backpack, indicating his eagerness to depart, all hell broke loose. The opposing sides broke through the barricades, and fights exploded everywhere. In a flash, tear-gas grenades were fired and even those who were not involved in the fighting were screaming & running in all directions.

"Y-yeah," stammered Marisa, "let's g-get out of here." All of a sudden their escape route was cut off by the arrival of more police, who set up a human wall with riot shields and ferocious attack dogs. "This was a bad idea!" exclaimed Mari, grabbing Mehmet by the hand, "Run!" They frantically cut across the edge of the piazza, dodging adults and holding school sweaters over their noses to keep out the tear gas. "This way!" Marisa shouted, dragging her friend down a side-alley, but they had been spotted.

"There's one!" shouted a young man, not much more than a teenager himself, "And he's got a white girl! Get that Muslim brat!" It didn't seem to matter to the 3 men with blue jackets and closely shaven heads that the girl was obviously the one dragging her supposed _assailant_ down the alley. All 3 wore white armbands with the red 5-petal flower, and all 3 carried crude weapons, like pipes & chains.

Mari & Mehmet ran as fast as they could, but neither had shed their school book-bags & their legs were just not long enough to outrun the young men who chased them. Both children could practically feel the hot breath of their enraged pursuers, and the terror pushed them harder.

Just as their lungs felt about to burst, the path ended. A small Isuzu straight-job delivery truck blocked the entire alley. "Slide!" shouted Marisa, throwing herself down in a move that she had used dozens of times to avoid angry adults on her tail, sliding feet-first under the frame rails. Mehmet was less experienced at such maneuvers, and tried to go head-first, but his back pack got caught on the truck's drive shaft. With a look of terror in his eyes, the boy felt one vise-like hand grasp at his leg. Mari, still sitting on the cobblestones, swung around as fast as she could and with all the power she could muster kicked that hand with her black Mary-Jane shoe. With a scream, followed by furious cursing the young man released her friend, giving Mehmet long enough to squirm out from under the truck. The girl and boy scrambled to their feet and dashed away, leaving their 3 attackers behind.

When they were finally convinced it was safe, Marisa & Mehmet ducked around a corner and stopped. The faces of both were covered in sweat, in their eyes pooled terrified tears. "W-we lost them I think!" panted the boy.

Mari nodded. "Let's not wait around and let them catch up!" The 2 could hear the continued sounds of violence, shouting, fighting, the pop of tear-gas canisters and the screams of the wounded, all just a few streets over. "The school is only a few blocks away, we'll be safe there."

They made it to class on time & without further incident, but neither student found it easy to concentrate on schoolwork for the rest of the day.

**_Visitors_**

"What the hell?" growled Elio, rolling over and looking at his alarm clock. He had been awakened by a buzzer at the front door of his bar. As there were no early deliveries scheduled for today he could only wonder who was pestering him at this hour. _"Probably one of those old fuckers who sit around playing dominoes all day...already drunk no doubt."_ Alboreto thought, pulling on his trousers and buttoning his shirt.

Still tired & bleary-eyed, Elio was greeted by an unexpected party at his door. 5 young men, some looking like they should still be in school, stood on his patio, trying to look intimidating. Dressed all alike in blue jackets, with the same close shaven haircuts they looked ridiculous to the old bartender. One even had his wrist freshly taped, probably the result of an encounter with persons obviously tougher than himself. He did notice the armbands they wore...these were Padania supporters.

"_Buongiorno_, fellow Lombardian," greeted the supposed leader, reciting a practiced speech, "we are seeking signatures on our petition..."

Elio cut them off. "Before you go any further, are you aware this is a tavern?"

"Yes, signor, businessmen like you are the cornerstone of our..."

"I do not allow those under the age of 18 in my establishment unless accompanied by a guardian. Since this patio is part of my tavern I will need to see some identification from all of you" he told them. Although the legal age to purchase alcohol was 2 years younger, Alboreto enforced a personal rule of 18 & older to keep his place from becoming a hangout for teenagers.

The youths were dumbfounded, accustomed as they were to people who responded to intimidation. "But...we only ask a minute of your time..."

"And I asked for some I.D., boys." Alboreto was firm, crossing his arms to indicate that he was not proceeding any further until he saw some paperwork. Three fumbled for their wallets, two just stepped back off the patio. When the remaining youths finally produced identification Elio did not look at their dates of birth, but made careful note of the names. There followed 30 seconds of silence, which the older man finally broke by saying "Well, you came here to ask something, didn't you?"

Now completely off balance, the oldest of the Padania supporters fumbled his speech badly. Alboreto stood back and grinned as the young man struggled. "...you see, Sir, we are collecting signatures to reform immigration policy here in Lombardy, and keep immigrants and their tidal wave of crime off our streets, to keep our communities safe, Christian, and Italian, like the old days."

"The _old days_?" he muttered, "I suppose you boys are experts about that." Elio emphasized the word to further degrade his opponents. _Fucking idiots, staring with rose-tinted glasses at a past that never really existed._

"Ehhh, it is true that we lack the experience of a gentleman such as yourself" the head youth struggled to remember his training, "but we are only the foot soldiers of the Padania movement. We depend on the wisdom...and financial support...of successful businessmen like yourself to accomplish our goals of a safe and wholesome community."

"Safe?" challenged Alboreto, "Just this morning I had to tell my own daughter to avoid the piazza on her walk to school because of the _safety_ your movement brings to our streets...and last week 9 homeless people, including a woman with 2 children, were savagely assaulted by Padania _safety_ patrols."

"Those incidents are regrettable," the young man defended, "but I assure you Padanians did not start the violence. As I said, we seek only to keep our communities safe, Christian, and Italian."

Elio took a step forward and stared the 3 young hooligans down. "I have already told you what I think of your _safety_, and as I am not Christian and only half-Italian I think I will not be signing your mindless fuckwit petition. As for _financial support_, you are lucky I do not charge you for my time that you are wasting."

The leader waved his finger at Elio and warned "Don't do anything you're going to regret!"

"Don't point your finger in my chest unless you're ready to have it broken off" growled Alboreto. The young man stumbled backward at his words, as if hit by some invisible force. A palpable chill ran down his spine. "Remember that a _successful businessman_ like myself has friends in the police department, and you morons were dumb enough to give me your names already. Now get your asses off my patio before I throw you off." He did not wait to watch them leave, but turned and closed the door behind him.

* * *

There was only one topic of conversation in the bar that afternoon, and it was not dominoes or soccer. Everyone was talking about the morning riot in the piazza, and the Padania goon squads hassling local businessmen. As it turned out, anyone who consented to sign the _petition_ was visited just a few hours later by a more senior Padania delegation, looking for their _financial support_. Those who had signed out of intimidation, and even a few who were receptive to the Padania message, felt as if they had been tricked into a deal with the devil. The question on everyone's mind was; _are the troubles & terrorism in Milan & Rome coming to Monza?_

Alboreto said nothing to his regular customers about the visit he had received earlier that day. When Marisa got home from school (earlier than usual, she had skipped her normal few hours of hanging out with friends this afternoon) he said nothing to her either. She seemed nervous, and hugged him a bit longer than usual when she first came behind the bar to give him his after-school kiss. Her father just figured she was worried by all the high tensions in the city. _I'll have a talk with her tonight at dinner_.

Friday was always a busy night, and the place was filling up nicely. Both Tessa & Yvette were working, and since it was a non-school night Marisa was allowed to stay downstairs and work a few hours longer. As music played, and the drinks started to flow the whole place took on a more relaxed atmosphere. People were eager to forget the tense situation outside and let their collective hair down on a Friday night.

Into this festive scene walked a woman, and no ordinary woman. She was tall, with long dark hair and silk-clad legs that seemed to go on for miles. The old men sucked in their guts, and carefully swept back their silver hair in an effort to cover bald spots. Younger men at the pool table and dart boards stopped in their tracks (earning them angry slaps from their wives & girlfriends) and even the workmen's attention was drawn away from the television for a few exciting moments.

The woman came in alone, and sat at the bar, crossing her legs seductively. Tessa & Yvette were both closer to her, but the two women did not take her drink order. With a glance and a knowing wink they conspired; _this one is for the boss_.

"What can I get for you?" asked Elio.

"Double bourbon," she ordered, "straight up, no rocks." Elio's eyebrows rose, he was impressed. He poured her a double of _Maker's Mark_, from Kentucky in the United States, and she showed her approval of his selection with a smile and a nod. "I'm looking for a man; Signor Elio Alboreto."

"You have found him" he confirmed with a smile, "what can I do for you?"

She extended a hand and introduced herself; "My name is Silvanna Mangielli, I'm a freelance journalist on assignment with _la Repubblica_. I'm working on a story about the rising separatist tensions in smaller cities & I'd like to interview you about the incident that occurred outside your establishment this morning."

The two barmaids had been eavesdropping, but they instantly jumped into the conversation. "Incident?" "What happened?"

Silvanna explained; "I am referring to the visit you had from Padania militants. It takes a unique and brave man to chase 5 dangerous thugs from his doorstep without a gun or even a knife." She was trying to appeal to his sense of vanity.

Instead, Elio turned a suspicious eye on her. "I have told no-one about that."

"Yeah!" scolded Tessa, slapping him her bar towel, "Why didn't you tell us about that!"

Ms. Mangielli opened a notebook and said "Witnesses saw 5 threatening young men on your patio this morning around 10 o'clock. They report seeing you confront the men, and chase them off your property. These men all had very short hair & wore blue jackets with armbands that marked them as members of the Padania movement."

Marisa had been standing at her father's side listening, and when she heard the description she gasped. Elio would not have noticed her there if Ms. Mangielli's eyes had not been drawn to the girl's surprised response. "Papa, those sound just like some men that chased me & a friend this morning."

"What?" he exclaimed.

Mari instantly regretted opening her mouth, but now she was stuck and had to explain. "We were walking to school...Mehmet Zlatar & I, the new Bosniak boy from Serbia, and we got chased by 3 men in blue jackets, with mostly shaved heads. We got away."

"Where were you?" growled her father, already suspecting that he knew the answer.

The girl shrank from him nervously, and admitted "Kinda...near the piazza."

Forgetting his customers, and everyone else in the tavern, Elio slammed his open palm down on the bar for emphasis and snapped "After I specifically told you to avoid that area?"

"Y-y-yes sir" she confessed, "we only went to take a _little_ look."

"Apparently it was a long enough look that you got chased by thugs!" he growled, "Maybe I need to take you upstairs and give you a good reason not to disobey me again!"

He had said that last part a bit too loud for Mari's liking, and she was now aware of the many sets of eyes watching her _very_ public scolding. Most of all she feared he was going to follow through on that threat...Papa had given her a _good reason_ not to misbehave or disobey before, thankfully not too often, and she certainly did not want one right now! "Papa...I'm sorry...I only wanted to see what all the fuss was!"

"Go to your room," he finally sighed "we will talk about this at dinner." With tears in her eyes, Marisa scampered off, leaving Elio with all attention on him. Thankfully the loud music had kept the embarrassing scene somewhat private. "Sorry you had to see that" he apologized to his two barmaids.

Yvette tried to break the awkward silence with small talk, "My own father would have sent me to bed without dinner."

"Mine would have taken his belt to my behind" laughed Tessa uncomfortably.

"Both of those options sound very appealing right now," grumbled their boss, leaning with both hands on the bar, "which is why I'm giving myself a while to calm down before I talk to her."

Silvanna Mangielli spoke up; "The important thing is that she is okay." Elio had forgotten the gorgeous reporter was sitting there waiting to interview him. "I'm sorry, it was inappropriate of me to intrude."

"Not at all..." sighed Alboreto, "... you are absolutely right of course." He refilled her drink, and poured one for himself as well. Elio lifted the bottle & offered a shot to his barmaids, but they waved it off and rushed out to attend to their customers. Turning to Silvanna he continued, "That was my daughter by the way...sorry I didn't introduce you. I'd be happy to answer all your questions, but Friday night is always very busy, and I admit that I'm a little distracted right now. Can we meet tomorrow, sometime before two?"

"Certainly" she assured him, handing him a card, "please give me a call whenever is convenient for you...I'm at the AS Hotel Monza." She finished her bourbon in one shot.

"Thank you Ms. Mangielli"

"Please, call me Silvanna."

* * *

Marisa sat on her bed, knees tucked up under her chin, looking out the window and trying to think of anything except how angry her father was right now. When she heard his heavy footsteps on the stairs, usually a cheerful & welcome sound, the girl's insides twisted and churned. She felt like a condemned prisoner waiting for the arrival of the dreaded executioner.

Taking slow, unsteady steps in her school socks, she approached her bedroom door, and opened it cautiously. As expected, Papa was standing in the living room. "Marisa, come over here" he ordered in a rumbling voice. On shaking knees, the girl obeyed. Once inside arm's reach she cringed, but when her father reached out it was not the expected smack that she received. He put his arms around her, and hugged her tightly. "I am _very_ happy that you were not hurt today." With that she breathed a heavy sigh of relief, but then Papa dropped the other shoe; "I am also very _unhappy_ that you disobeyed me."

"Are you more happy or unhappy?" the girl asked nervously. This drew a small laugh from her father, which Marisa hoped was her answer. They sat down on the living room couch to talk.

"Now that you've seem what that demonstration was like I don't think I need to explain why it was dangerous for you to get close," Elio said "and I certainly hope you don't consider getting chased by street goons _exciting_."

"No, sir!" she replied emphatically.

"While I was considering wringing your little neck, I accepted that part of this is my own fault for never talking to you about the troubles going on in this country. Did you go to the demonstration today because you wanted to learn something?" Mari was not sure exactly _why_ she had gone, but it seemed like a good idea to agree with Papa as long as her butt was not yet completely out of trouble. She nodded, and her father continued; "Okay, well, now is your big chance. Go ahead and ask me anything."

"Who do you think is right?" was the first question that came to her mind.

"Well, I absolutely don't support the separatists" he answered, "but the government has had plenty of chances to respond diplomatically, which they have failed to do. The amount of money they have spent fighting the radical wing of the Five Republics Faction is unbelievable. If they had spent one tenth that amount on a peaceful solution we would have preserved a lot of lives and probably been more successful."

"So why don't they?" asked Marisa.

Her father sighed, and sagged back into the couch. "Money, ego, politics. It might make sense to give a small concession to prevent a war, but then the politician who did that must answer to an angry electorate...that means the people who voted him into office. In the next election he will probably lose to a hard-liner who promises not to give up any more concessions. The separatists get angry, which leads to violence. Now the public screams for revenge instead of peace talks, and politicians who favor non-violence are unfairly characterized as weak. Revenge leads to more revenge, and you soon have a war on your hands. Money powers it all because rich & powerful people put the politicians in the position they are in, and they're willing to fuel the violence in order to hold onto their power."

The girl asked "When those men chased Mehmet & I, they were yelling about him being Muslim...what does that have to do with it?"

"In order to start a war in the streets you need people to fight for you," Elio sighed, "and the easiest people to get are the stupid, the cowardly and the violent. For centuries, the best way to get those people on your side is to convince them that someone _else_ is to blame for their problems. You know about the Fascist pogroms in Nazi Germany and right here in Italy, right?" She nodded. "During those years, the Fascists generated an army by stirring up hatred against anyone they could target...Jewish people, Gypsies, even handicapped people and the mentally ill. Using that army, men like Mussolini & Hitler seized power in their countries, and it wasn't over until 50 million people had lost their lives, and Europe lost its place as the economic center of the world."

Mari looked at him nervously, and asked "Is that what's happening now? Is there going to be another World War?"

"That's a far fetched scenario, it's still very early..." her father replied, putting his arm around Marisa and pulling her close, "...& there are a lot of people fighting very hard to make sure that doesn't happen." She still seemed distressed so he added "Don't worry about it too much. When you get to be my age you'll realize that humanity always seems to be just two heartbeats away from annihilating itself. You could waste your entire life in fear of it, or you could live & enjoy your own life."

The ding of the oven bell was a welcome interruption to their weighty conversation. "Sounds like the food is ready" said Elio. "Now, we are not finished discussing the matter of you disobeying me and going sightseeing at the demonstration this morning, but for now let's put all this aside and just enjoy our dinner."

**_Silvanna Mangielli_**

The next morning Elio got up at 9 o'clock and telephoned the reporter, Ms. Mangielli. "Do you want to meet at your tavern?" she asked.

"Actually, I was thinking of meeting at the _duomo_, it's closer to your hotel" suggested Alboreto.

"Practically right outside my door" she laughed. Monza's main cathedral was only 100 meters from the lobby of the hotel where she was staying. "Are you sure...it's no inconvenience for me to come to you. It's my job after all."

"Actually, I'm eager to get out for a little while...I spend too much time watching this place" Elio told her, "Meet you in a half hour?"

The two met under the bell tower as planned, and Alboreto gave the reporter a relaxed walking tour through the historical center of the city while she asked questions about the events of Friday morning. Elio downplayed his adventure with the Padania street thugs, but Silvanna kept pressing, making the right inquiries, and he got a feeling this reporter already knew what kind of article she intended to write. The woman asked a lot of personal questions as well, about Elio & his background, about the bar and his neighborhood, and about Marisa as well. Inevitably, the topic of her mother came up. "My daughter has no memory of her mother" explained Alboreto, "and to be honest I'm kind of glad about that. She was a nightclub singer that I got _way_ too involved with, and once she delivered Marisa she went straight back to that lifestyle...which involved a lot of dope. The smartest thing I ever did was bribe that bitch to surrender all of her parental rights. Eventually Nerissa ran her car into the Po River when Mari was only 2. It took 3 days to fish her body out of the water."

"I'm so sorry" said Mangielli.

Elio gave a dismissive snort and muttered, "Feel sorry for her coke dealer. She died with a nose-full, and left owing him over 6,000 euros. The stupid _pezzo di merda_ came knocking on my door with a gun, looking for his money! Nerissa never even lived with me, so he obviously thought he could get paid by threatening her daughter."

"What did you do?" asked the wide-eyed reporter.

"Broke his jaw & both of his legs" answered the grey haired man, "after that I never saw _him_ again."

She laughed, and observed, "So your encounter with the Padania was not the first time you've had to deal with rough customers." Elio's face flushed a little, mildly embarrassed by that comment; he considered bragging about violence to be a mark of low character. Silvanna picked up on his discomfort and changed topics. "I admit, I did a little research into your background last night. You are a hard man to track down, Elio Alboreto."

"What's to track down?" he replied with a shrug of his shoulders, "I've been here in Monza running my bar for the last 15 years...haven't taken more than a few days off in that entire time."

Silvanna leaned in and bumped into his shoulder in a flirting gesture. "Before that you lived in the U.K. though. That's the period I could find nothing about."

"Suppose you're digging for a little intrigue, Ms. Reporter?" jested the man, "Sorry, I was a bartender back there too. I worked under the table a lot to avoid paying taxes. Afraid my background lacks that excitement you're looking for."

"I think there's still _plenty_ to write about" she assured him.

After their tour of the historic sites the pair sat down at a casual cafe for lunch. "Marisa & I eat here sometimes" commented Elio, "it's a great spot for people-watching."

"You should have brought her along" said Mangielli, "it's such a nice day."

Alboreto chose not to tell her that his daughter was confined to her room for the weekend as a result of Friday's _excitement_; there was no need to air family business any further. He simply responded "Oh, she made her own plans for today. Once we finish up here I should show you Monza Park and the _Villa Reale_."

"That sounds nice, but perhaps we should visit the site of yesterday's riot first" suggested Silvanna, shifting back into reporter-mode. Alboreto finished his drink and reached for the check, but his companion was faster. "Don't even dream of it," she warned, paying their waiter with a credit card "I already owe you for the tour of the town. Besides, I'm charging it all back to the newspaper anyway."

Elio fought back a pang of chivalrous chauvinism and decided not to argue about it.

* * *

Elio returned home a half-hour late and found a few of his elderly regulars already waiting outside on the patio. "You old bastards need to get a life" he teased them, unlocking the door of the bar.

"Ha!" snorted one of the domino players, "You were out showing that pretty reporter around town, eh? If I had a hot little number like that waiting for me I wouldn't be spending every afternoon with you _asini _either."

"If you had a piece of ass like that you wouldn't remember what to do with it!" retorted one of the other old men, "At least a young fellow like Signor Alboreto can still get it up for her."

Amused to be called _young_, Elio gave a chuckle as he poured them a round of grappa. "It's nothing like that...she's writing an article about the troubles we're having, and I'm just helping where I can. The fact that she's hot is just a bonus."

One old timer continued as he set out the dominoes; "So is she coming over this afternoon?"

"Tomorrow evening" replied Elio, "and not just for you old _pervertiti_ to drool over. I'm having her over for dinner." This was met with applause and jesting hoots from the lecherous old men, which Alboreto smiled at, but otherwise ignored.

As expected, Silvanna Mangielli showed up at the bar around 6 o'clock on the appointed evening, dressed tastefully, but not formally, and carrying a box from a local _pasticceria_. Business was usually not so heavy on a Sunday night, but the bar's gossip mill had put the word out that Ms. Mangielli was coming to see the owner for dinner tonight. _None_ of the regulars were missing; they were all present to gawk. Far from being put off, Silvanna seemed to thrive on the attention. "Signorina Mangielli, if this stingy bartender bores you with a lot of business talk at dinner you can always come down and have a grappa with us!" called out one old-timer.

"I would love to have a drink with you gentlemen" she replied graciously, "but first I have a dinner engagement. Shall we Signor Alboreto?" She offered him her arm.

"Tessa, Yvette...keep an eye on the place, will you?" he instructed the two waitresses.

"Have a good time, Elio..." teased Yvette, "...just not too good!"

Tessa added twirling her bar-towel, "Yeah, the boss is gone for a few hours...free drinks all around!"

As his customers and barmaids continued to joke Alboreto led his guest upstairs. "This is _very_ nice" she complimented upon seeing the upstairs apartment, "to be honest, I was picturing a storage room full of liquor cases."

"As long as we're being honest I _did_ live that way for a long time" her host laughed, "but I had to get serious and make this into a real home when my daughter came along."

Almost on cue, Marisa came out of the kitchen, still wearing big oven mitts on her hands. "There she is now!" said Mangielli, "Are you the chef tonight?"

Mari answered tersely; "No, my Papa did all the work, I'm just checking what he has in the oven." The girl was not thrilled about her father's dinner guest, and she was letting her distaste show.

"Well it smells wonderful" replied the reporter. Silvanna held out the box she'd brought. "I brought a ricotta tart for dessert. The _portineria_ of my hotel claims it's from the best pastry shop in town." She was sure that would win Elio's daughter over, but the red-haired girl just smiled courteously and said she would go find a serving plate for it.

"Marisa," called Elio, "while you're in the kitchen would you fetch us a few glasses?" He turned to address Silvanna "Dinner will be about 20 more minutes; I thought we might have an aperitif." There was a cabinet in the living room, filled with an impressive collection of liquors, liqueurs, and cordials.

"You never stop tending bar do you?" she laughed, "How about Campari & vodka?"

Marisa silently returned with 2 fancy glasses, and her father mixed cocktails for he and their guest. "Mari, would you like something as well?" He drew the line at hard liquor, but since it was a special occasion did not object to her having some sherry, sweet-wine, or a light cocktail before dinner...knowledge of spirits was part of her education after all.

"No thank you, not tonight" replied the girl. She waited for the two adults to be seated, then sat right in-between them.

They ate in the formal dining room. Dinner began with chilled antipasto consisting of artichokes, olives, salami & cheese along with a variety of pickled vegetables from the gardens of Alboreto's customers. The pasta course that followed was _penne con frutti di mare_, all in a pomodaro sauce & for the main dish Elio had produced grilled chicken with risotto. Each course had been prepared from scratch by the host (with some help from Marisa) & was complemented by an appropriate wine. Silvanna had been expecting a bachelor single-father whose cooking skills consisted of ordering pizza, but Alboreto was proving far more competent than she had predicted.

In typical Italian fashion, the salad came last. "Elio I'm impressed, you're not at all what I expected" Silvanna told him. She then tried to make a little contact with Marisa, who had been silent almost the entire meal, "is he teaching you how to cook like this?"

The girl's answer was curt & monotone; "A little. I can make a few things from scratch." Marisa then surprised them both by asking "Does your _husband_ cook back at home, Ms. Mangielli?" Her father's eyebrows rose at her blunt question, and he shot her a disapproving glance.

"Well, being a reporter keeps me very busy," laughed Silvanna, uncomfortably, "so I've never been married."

Mari nodded. "Hmmm, probably best to keep it that way then." It was a direct warning; _stay away from him...he's mine._

Eager to change the subject, Elio suggested a new topic of conversation. "Ms. Mangielli might be interested in the fencing club you started at school."

"You sword-fight?" inquired the woman with a smile, "Now that _is_ exciting. It's just the kind of thing I could use in my article."

Reluctantly, Marisa explained; "It's no big deal...there's no school fencing team for kids my age, so I organized a club. We get to use the old equipment from the high-school team, and twice a week we get to practice with them."

"Last Thursday she sparred with someone of the high-school team and won, hands down." Elio hoped that stoking the fires of her ego a bit would calm his daughter, who up to this point had been acting like a passive-aggressive brat. It didn't do much; she had the reporter locked in an icy stare.

Silvanna was impressed; "Wow, you must be very good!"

The girl glanced at a set of swords hanging on the wall...decorative, but very real. "I could demonstrate if you'd like."

Rapidly losing patience with his daughter, Elio let out a warning growl, "Marisa..."

"Ms. Mangielli, how long does it take to research an article?" the girl pressed, "Doesn't your newspaper want something it can print before the story is all over?" Her voice was snide & challenging.

That chipped away another huge block of Alboreto's patience. "Alright, stop it now, Marisa, you're being rude!"

"I'm just asking a question;" she persisted, "why have you been hanging around here in Monza so long?"

"Marisa! If you can't be courteous to our guest you can go straight to your room!" Elio finally snapped. The girl kept her composure, and stood up.

"I think I will" she replied, walking off without even acknowledging Silvanna. "Leave the dishes; I'll do them once you've gone." Mari did not slam her bedroom door, but closed it with a confident finality that told the adults they would not see her for the remainder of their evening.

Elio shook his head and muttered something under his breath before looking up and apologizing. "I'm sorry about that. She's been kind acting up for the last few days...I think she's upset about all the chaos downtown, it was wrong for her to take it out on you."

"It's a lot of change for her to handle at once" replied Silvanna with sympathy, "she might be getting the wrong idea about us."

The old bartender nodded, "That's likely, but it doesn't excuse her from..."

"Please, be patient with her" Silvanna reminded him. "It's our fault, really. Maybe the 3 of us should have had dinner at a restaurant, and not directly on _her turf_."

Elio cracked a smile and sighed "Sorry we didn't get to the dessert you brought."

She stood up and took him by the hand, "Let's go downstairs," she suggested, "I think we could both use that grappa right about now."

* * *

After a few hours, and a few drinks downstairs at the bar Elio left Silvanna in the care of the old domino players (who were having the time of their lives entertaining the gorgeous & classy reporter) and went upstairs to check on Mari. He found the dining table cleared, the dishes washed, and her book-bag packed and ready to go for school tomorrow. The kitchen had even been cleaned, top to bottom. The ricotta tart, however, was still on its serving plate, untouched.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked on her door. "Come in" sighed the voice on the other side. Marisa was already in her nightgown, sitting in her desk chair, staring out the window. "There's a fire across town...I can see the glow against the clouds, and a bunch of fire-trucks went in that direction."

"More trouble with the Padania, I expect" sighed her father, putting his hand on her shoulder. She leaned her head back to rest it against his wrist.

"Are you really angry?" she asked.

"Well, I'm certainly not pleased with the way you acted tonight" he replied, "I don't see what you have against Ms. Mangielli...she was trying to be nice to you all night, and you ignored her until you decided to attack her."

"I just don't see why she has to be hanging around, especially right now." A nod to the distant fire left no doubt as to what she meant by _right now_.

Elio sighed. "This is exactly the time we need someone like her around...to tell the story of what's going on here. I'm trying to help her as much as I can, but if you really dislike her that much I'll..."

"Don't stop seeing her because of me" sniffled Marisa, "if she makes you happy."

"It's not like that at all" he tried to assure her.

She retorted "It could be. Ms. Mangielli is beautiful, she's smart, she's the kind of woman you deserve if..." the next words did not come easily, "...if I can't make you happy."

Elio was astonished; "Mari what would make you think I'm trying to replace you?" He put his arms around her, and promised, "Anything I do, for all the days of my life, will include you! If I ever do meet a reporter, or an astronaut, or a stock-broker, or a scientist that I want to share my life with she's going to have to accept that the deal includes you!"

"I'm...I'm just really confused...everything is changing." Marisa was close to tears.

Her father held her, and rubbed her back, "Of course things are going to change, for better and for worse, but I'm never going to leave you, that won't change." After that they were silent for a long time, watching the stars, and the glow of distant fires.

**_The Week of Riots_**

Monday came, and there were more riots.

Things had gotten no better by Tuesday & Elio walked Marisa to school that day, picking up a few of her classmates along the way.

By Wednesday morning, Alboreto stopped his daughter during her morning preparations for school. "Not today" he sighed, watching the pictures on the television news with the sound muted, "there are even more protests scheduled for this morning, and the Carabinieri are moving in more troops. I've already called your school and told them I'm keeping you at home today."

"Really?" she asked. It sounded like a mixed blessing.

"Don't get too excited" chuckled her father, "it's still a school-day, you can spend the morning studying, but when I open the bar you can come downstairs and help if you want."

The girl smiled, "I would like that...but, you're still opening the bar today? If it's too dangerous for me to go to school..."

"I am going to stay open" he replied, staring out the window, "it's important to show these separatist fools that we won't be cowed by them. We'll continue our normal lives as best we can."

"But you're still keeping me out of school today?" Mari asked.

"Yes" sighed Elio, "that's called hypocrisy."

* * *

Friday came. Elio had managed to keep the bar open the whole time, and it had developed into a neighborhood meeting place for those opposing the Padania demonstrations. Marisa had been back to school on Thursday, but only for a half day...the school itself had closed early because of increasing violence in the streets. Mari spent nearly all her free time in the bar now, serving as a waitress, cleaning tables, washing dishes, but mostly listening to news and gossip about what was going on in the city. The tips, unfortunately, where lousy...men in a bad mood tended to drink plenty but tip poorly.

Silvanna was at the tavern every day too; it had supplanted the hotel as her de-facto office. At first the reporter had taken over a booth in the back for her papers and laptop computer, but Elio soon cleared a table in the back room for her to work. Still, she spent most of her time in the bar, listening to the customers & gathering information for her article.

Mangielli went out of her way to be nice to Marisa, but the girl still gave her the cold shoulder. Mari was not blatantly rude, as she had been at dinner on Sunday night, but it was obvious that the she felt the reporter had overstayed her welcome. Elio kept a close eye on that situation.

The riots and protests were spreading, moving closer to the neighborhood which had been spared up to this point. A patrol of blue jacketed thugs passed by about twice a day, pausing in front of the bar but never daring to go inside; Alboreto had his own heavies in there, and they knew it.

Inside _Taverna Tifosi_ the debates were predictable; they had been repeated over and over again for the past few days.

"Those bastards want violence in the streets I say we answer them with violence!"

"Just let the idiots tire themselves out...things will get back to normal soon."

"Normal? You mean like Milan, and Rome? They blew up the St. Marks Campanile in Venice, you call that normal?"

"It's already half rebuilt...that tower wasn't the original anyway."

"So it's okay for the Padanians to blow it up? Let's go blow up the old banking at the _Autodromo_ here in Monza...since it's not used anymore!"

"Now you're going too far!"

Elio kept a close eye on the arguments, stepping in at the right time whenever things got a little too heated. Uninterested in taking a side in the debate as he was, the bar owner did this at his own peril. "Come on fellas, we're all friends here...save the vinegar for the Padania" he advised.

"So what do _you_ think we should do?"

Now Alboreto was trapped; the room had fallen silent & all eyes, including those of his daughter & a certain very attractive reporter, were on him. This called for a good answer, and he did not feel he had one. "I don't know what we can do collectively, as a group, that wouldn't make things worse. I'm just a bartender and all I can do is hold my part of the line, so that's what I'm going to do. The Padanians will find no aid or comfort here, and those that oppose them will. It's not much, but it's what I can do to help. I suggest you all consider your own actions that way as well."

That seemed to satisfy the troublemakers, for now, but once Marisa had taken care of her poor-tipping customers she slipped behind the bar and spoke to her father. "Papa, the things you were talking about...isn't that exactly what the Padania wants?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"You said those that support the Padania would find no aid or comfort here" she explained, "but aren't there plenty of folks sitting in pro-Padania bars saying the same things about us? You encouraged the others to avoid helping them too...mechanics, bakers, deliverymen. Soon the whole city will be divided into the people who support Italy and those who want to break it up...and then it will be too late...we'll already be split all up!"

Elio was struck silent for a moment. _She really nailed me there..._ "You certainly have a good point there" he muttered clumsily, unable to concoct a response right away.

Silvanna had come up behind him and tried to help out. "I think your father is doing the right thing. He has his home, his business, and most importantly, _you_ to protect." Marisa still afforded her no better than a cold glance. Mangielli continued "It's important for people to protect what they have; it can all be taken away so quickly."

To Marisa, that sounded like a Padania sentiment.

**_Broken Glass_**

Mari was awakened by the sound of hammering. It was strange that someone would be hammering in the middle of the night...and then her bedroom window exploded in a cascade of glass shards.

Elio burst though the door even before she had a chance to scream. In a flash he rolled down the steel rouladens, just in time to block 3 more rocks. "What's going on?" she asked franticly.

Her father did not answer immediately. "Don't step on the carpet...it's full of glass." He grabbed her up in the blanket she was still wrapped in, and rushed her into the living room in time to see another window shatter. "Stay away from the glass" he ordered, depositing her on the couch. Marisa tried to hold onto her father, to prevent him from getting close to those windows himself, but he pulled away.

One by one Elio rolled the protective steel covers down over the windows, but on the last one he was a bit slow, and was hit by a shower of broken shards. "Shite..." muttered Alboreto, wiping a bit of blood out of his eyes. At least all of the windows were covered now. Rocks continued to bang off the steel for a few seconds, until those tossing them recognized the futility of the effort.

Marisa looked over at the clock...it was past 4am already. "The riots..." she asked in a shaky voice, "...they've spread to our neighborhood, haven't they?"

"Yes, but we're safe here." growled her father. She hopped up off the living room couch and got a wet towel from the kitchen. "Thank you" said Elio, as she handed it to him. When he wiped his face, more blood stained the towel than he had expected.

"Do you need a doctor?" asked his daughter.

"No," he reassured her, "anything too big for a plaster I can seal with super-glue."

Marisa's face twisted into a grimace of surprise. "Super glue?"

"It works just fine," he replied, "it's a trick I learned years ago in the...eh...bartending school."

That sounded fishy...Marisa was savvy to detect when her father was not telling the whole truth. "You went to _school_ to become a bartender?"

"Yes" he told her, forcing conviction into his voice, "bartending school."

The two spent a restless night on the living room couch, watching news reports on the television until a well-aimed rock took out the satellite dish. Despite the tension, and the sounds of chaos outside Mari finally drifted off to sleep with her head resting against Papa's chest.

She awoke alone...laid out across the full length of the couch, under a blanket. Rubbing her eyes she inspected the room...all the glass had been swept up, but her father was nowhere to be seen. It was 8 o'clock. Still in her socks & nightgown Marisa crept down the stairs looking for him, and to her relief found him alone in the bar. "Is everything okay?" she asked timidly.

"It's calmer than last night" he sighed, "but I'm afraid the opposing sides are just resting up for a bigger fight this afternoon. I've called Tessa & Yvette already, and told them to stay home...I can't open up today."

Marisa did not know what to say. "Saturday is our busiest night" she sighed.

"There are more important things than money right now" replied Elio. "Why don't you get dressed...I'm afraid I had to throw out the carpet in your bedroom; there was no way to get all the glass shards out of it. We'll get you a new one soon."

She could see his face now, he wore a few adhesive bandages, but it did not look as bad as the night before. His eyes did look sunken & tired though...it was obvious that he had not gotten any sleep. "_It's time for me to step up and do my share_" Mari thought, so she spoke up with the only suggestion she could come up with; "Papa, you should get some rest now. Things aren't going to get any quieter than they are now."

"It's not a good time for that" he replied, but could not hold back a yawn.

"It's the _only_ time" she protested, "I'll stay down here and keep an eye on things...I promise I'll come wake you if _anything_ happens."

Elio was silent for a few moments, looking at his daughter in a new light. She was serious...focused...and she _wanted_ the responsibility. His little girl was growing up. "Alright," he consented, "the morning watch is yours. As soon as you get changed I'll go get a few hours sleep." He put his hand on her shoulder and added "There is nobody on this earth that I would trust with this duty more than you, Marisa...thank you."

* * *

The morning melted into a long, boring mid-day, and then into afternoon. At least the power was still on...as she was unable to open any windows it would be miserable without lights and air conditioning. Papa had been asleep 5 hours now...Marisa was unsure whether to make him some food or just let him sleep. Circumstances answered that question for her.

There was an urgent knock on the door, sparking Mari out of her bored lethargy. She dashed to the peep-hole, and demanded "Who is it?"

"Marisa? It's Silvanna...Miss Mangielli, is everyone alright in there?"

Elio had ordered her not to open the door for anyone without his direct permission, so the girl grabbed the only radio she had, a pink toy walkie-talkie set that she'd gotten for her birthday 5 years earlier. She hadn't played with the set in years, but with fresh batteries installed they served as the line of communication with her father. "Papa...Papa come in...over."

He was slow to respond but Elio's sleepy voice eventually crackled over the radio. "Ugghhh, whhuttizit Mari?"

"You have to say _over_...over."

"Stop playing *_yawn_* games...what's going on?" he grumbled, still grouchy from the rapid wake-up.

She reported "Ms. Mangielli is at the front door."

"Well don't make her stand out there!" he exclaimed "Let her in!"

"Copy, I'm letting her in" Marisa replied, taking her guard duty very seriously.

"Tell her I'll be right down."

It always amazed Marisa how quickly her father could be dressed and ready to go. She could not remember a single time that she'd had to wait for him; it was usually Papa standing next to the door, ready to go, tapping his toe and looking at his wrist-watch impatiently while _she_ rushed around getting ready to go out. This afternoon proved no exception...Elio was down the stairs, fully dressed before Ms. Mangielli had even shaken off her umbrella.

"It's raining out there" she commented breathlessly.

"You shouldn't have risked coming...it's still dangerous out there." replied Alboreto. The two stared at each other for a few moments, and Marisa got the feeling they would have embraced if she had not been carefully standing between them.

"I almost couldn't come" she sighed, "there are police all over the street...civilian & Carabinieri. They're telling people to go back to their homes."

Marisa looked up at her and asked "So how did _you_ get through?"

Smiling, Silvanna flashed her press credentials, "You can get into a lot of places with these...and I also told them this place _was_ my home, or office at the very least." The two adults shared a smile at that last comment...Marisa growled under her breath.

They had not conversed long when there was another frantic knock on the door. Marisa darted around the wet reporter and looked out the peep-hole. This time she did not ask Elio's permission to open the door. "Mehmet! What are you doing here?" she asked, yanking her school-friend inside roughly.

He was dressed in a yellow slicker, but was still wet, breathing heavily as if he'd run a foot-race. "My...family...is..." he panted "moving out of town...to stay with relatives...until things...get better. I couldn't leave without...telling you."

"Idiot, you could have tried the telephone!" exclaimed Marisa.

He shook his head, "The power & phones are out in my neighborhood...and we don't own a cell phone." Silvanna came over and handed him a glass of water, which he gratefully accepted. "I can't stay...my family is getting ready to leave...my father didn't even want me to come over here but I begged him. I have to come straight home."

"I'll take you over there" growled Elio, reaching for his hat & rain-coat, "You two stay here and don't open the door for anyone."

"Sir, you won't be able to get through" Mehmet informed him, "the police are turning all adults back...I only slipped through because I'm a kid. Even if the police turn me away I can sneak through places they don't know about."

"He's right" Marisa admitted, "I do it all the time."

The man was not entirely satisfied, but he had no choice. "I don't like this at all" he muttered, "but if you're going back, be careful. Take my cell-phone too. If you have any trouble speed dial #3...it's the bar phone."

Mehmet accepted the telephone with shaking hands. "But Sir, how will I return it to you?"

"To hell with the damn phone...I'll get another one!" snapped Alboreto, "Just use it if you run into trouble!"

After thanking Elio, Mehmet gave his friend Marisa a nervous hug for good-luck, and dashed back out onto the wet & dangerous streets. "Oh, goodness, I hope he'll be alright" muttered Silvanna. "I think his family is doing the right thing though...getting out of town to where it's safe."

"They came all the way from Serbia because they thought it was safe here..." sighed Mari.

**_Mehmet_**

Despite Elio's instructions to the contrary, Yvette & Tessa showed up at the regular time for their shift. "I didn't feel like staying home alone..." explained Yvette, to which Tessa added, "Yeah, so she came over to my place, but we didn't feel like sitting around my apartment just waiting for something to happen, so we came here."

"Did you have problems with the police barricades?" asked Silvanna.

"No...we both live just a few blocks away," explained Yvette, "and most of the police are getting pulled away to deal with the real fighting."

That got the attention of Elio, Silvanna & Mari. They'd lost television access the night before, and so far no one had thought to turn on the radio. "It's started?" asked Mangielli.

"We thought you knew," answered Tessa, "There was a car bomb at the demonstration...5 dead, dozens injured, mostly from the stampede. Both sides are blaming each other."

"Fuck...idiots, all of them." growled Elio, sitting down at a table. These were the first fatalities...so far. Everyone was silent for a long time. Not knowing what else to do, Marisa made them all coffee.

The next knock on the door came a few hours later. It was rapid, and hard, shocking them all out of their skins. Alboreto got up to check the door, signaling the others with his hand to _stay back_. "We're closed...who's there?" he demanded.

"Please...Mr. Alboreto;" called out a man's voice, "we're looking for our son...Mehmet Zlatar."

Marisa hopped up and dashed to the door. She took a look through the peep-hole and saw a man carrying heavy bags, on his left was a woman in a head scarf holding a curly haired little girl. The man wore a cylindrical hat identical to the one her friend wore. "Papa, I can vouch for them...it's Mehmet's parents." Elio nodded and unlocked the door. All 3 of them were wet from the persistent rain, so Tessa quickly provided them with towels.

"Have you seen him?" asked the frantic mother, "He said he was coming over here to tell his friend goodbye. He gave us this address."

"Yes, he was here around 1 o'clock." Elio told them. That was over 4 hours ago, not a good sign. "He never made it home?"

"Our home was fire-bombed shortly after he left" explained the father, "we had to run to escape the mob! Oh, God, why did I let him go out alone?" He seemed to collapse into a chair, out of energy and nearly out of resolve to keep pushing on.

Alboreto put his hand on the man's shoulder, "I gave him my cell phone...we can find him." Mehmet's mother looked to heaven with gratitude and mouthed _Allahu Akbar _silently.

Yvette rushed out to the table where the Zlatar family sat, carrying the cordless bar phone, which Elio dialed. He offered it to Mehmet's father, but the man was too shaken up to talk, and waved it off. In a few moments, it was ringing.

Once.

Twice...

A third time...

On the sixth ring, someone answered. Elio breathed a sigh of relief when he heard a young boy's voice. "Hello?" Alboreto could hear fear & strain in that voice.

"Mehmet, lad! This is Signor Alboreto, Marisa's father. Where are you...are you okay?" he demanded.

"I'm hiding!" he panted, "They burned my house down...I don't know where my mother, and my father, and my sister are!"

"Settle down, lad, they're safe...they're here with me at the tavern." Elio tried to calm Mehmet, while giving a reassuring nod to his parents. "I need to know where you are so I can come get you."

"There are men, and police fighting!" cried the boy, "There are fires _everywhere_!"

"I know...I'm going to come get you" said Elio, trying to sound as placid as he could, "now tell me where you are."

There was a painful silence of about 10 seconds. "I'm in a cellar" he finally replied, "near the school. There's an electronics store and a _panettiere_ on this street, but I can't see anything else."

"Damn it" growled Alboreto, putting his hand over the mouthpiece, "he's over by the school, near an electronics shop and a bakery. He's hiding out in a basement. How the hell am I...?"

Marisa tugged on his arm. "Papa, I know exactly where that is."

"Draw me a map" he said.

"Papa, you'll never find it yourself...I have to go."

Elio gave her a searing look, but was interrupted by Mehmet's voice over the phone. "Mr. Alboreto...are you still there? The phone is starting to beep."

_Damn it_. He answered the boy; "The battery is getting low, Mehmet...hang up now...we will come find you. Don't use any more of your battery power unless you change hiding places!"

After he had hung up Marisa looked at him gravely and said "You told him we would go find him."

"It's too dangerous" he growled, "you stay here."

"Papa, I can do it!" she pleaded, "I know about routes you don't...routes only a kid would know about! You can't do this without me!"

"I should go as well" added Mehmet's father.

Now Elio was getting annoyed, "Neither one of you are going with me! Mari, I can't have my daughter out there...it's not safe...and Mr. Zlatar, these bastards have already burned your house, it's not safe for you to be out either. Now Marisa, draw me the damn map!"

Defiantly, the girl crossed her arms. "No" she replied with finality, "It's not safe for you either, but I can make it safer by showing you hidden ways to slip through town." Her father groaned, and admitted defeat. _I would be really mad at her if I wasn't so proud._

* * *

Marisa had not been exaggerating when she claimed she knew how to sneak through the city. Father & daughter cut through gardens and across the tops of tool-sheds, staying in the shadows all the time. Despite the dark & rain Mari moved with deft confidence...Elio followed in a slightly less graceful manner, but with no less stealth.

Stealth was necessary. That night's rioting was as the worst so far, pro-Italian Republic factions clashing with Padania supporters with rocks, Molotov cocktails, and improvised weapons. Tossed into this chaotic scene was rampant violence against immigrants, and the homes of anyone suspected of harboring immigrants. Police forces desperately tried to keep order, but they were miserably outnumbered.

These riots were not everywhere; sometimes Marisa & Elio walked for whole blocks without seeing another soul. It was like any other rainy night in Monza when they had only each other and stray cats for company. Unlike any other night though, there were the ever-present sounds of battle in the distance. Angry screams, the dull thump of bombs, shrill commands shouted over police megaphones, and the chilling moans of the wounded.

"That's the street...we got lucky." whispered Mari. All was silent save the sounds of water gurgling down drain-pipes.

"Keep your guard up anyway..." muttered her father. He dialed the mobile phone he'd borrowed from Yvette (fumbling with the unfamiliar buttons). Nobody answered. After 8 rings the call went straight to his voice-mail. "Damn it lad...answer the phone!" he growled, dialing again.

"I can go listen where the rings are coming from!" offered Marisa, dashing off down the street before Elio could object. At her age she had much keener ears than her father, so she just knew she could hear the familiar ring of his telephone (Papa still used a boring _ring_ on his mobile phone, rather than a musical ring-tone..._so old fashioned_). Mari ran up & down the wet cobblestones, pausing at each cellar door and straining to hear. Finally, something caught her attention...faint, but noticeable. Then it stopped.

Elio caught up with his daughter before she could investigate more. "Don't run away from me like that again!" he scolded, yanking her collar roughly.

"Papa, I heard something...dial one more time!" she implored. With a nod her father capitulated. This time the ring was close & unmistakable...Marisa dropped to her knees and rapped on a nearby cellar door. "Mehmet, are you in there? It's Marisa...Marisa Alboreto!"

The door cracked open a little bit. "What are _you_ doing here?" he asked, only his frightened eyes showing. "Are you alone too?"

"My Papa is here!" she informed him, "We'll take you back to the tavern...where your family is!"

Mehmet popped his head up a little higher. "Are they safe?" he asked.

"Yes, lad" rumbled Elio, opening the door fully. The boy flinched when he saw the bearded man towering over him...Mr. Alboreto looked a lot scarier in the dark than he had earlier. "Come on, we have to get moving." Elio's statement had been well timed. Just as Mehmet crawled out of his hiding space the echoing sound of boots on cobblestones became noticeable. A mob was coming closer.

"Are they friendly?" Marisa asked hopefully.

"I think we can safety assume that _nobody_ is friendly tonight!" warned her father, "Get moving...if we get separated go straight to the bar." The 3 ran...Mehmet leading, and Elio taking up the rear. Marisa stayed in the middle...trying to hold the group together, terrified that she and her friend would turn around and find that they'd outrun her father.

Near the school their luck turned bad again. Mehmet & Marisa rounded the corner and ran straight into a street-fight. Neither political faction was involved in this battle; it was two rival gangs taking advantage of the chaos. Elio yanked both children back into the shadows before they'd been seen, and growled "_Not good_." They were now penned in between the thugs and the approaching mob.

"The school!" suggested Mehmet.

"We can climb up on the roof!" Marisa agreed, "There's an easy way up right around the back!"

"I'm not even going to _ask_ how you know that" muttered her father, "lead on."

Mari had been right, it was simple for the 2 children, and even the grown man to climb from the bicycle rack, to the tool-shed roof, up a drainpipe and finally onto the roof of her school. From there, 3 floors up, they could survey the scene, and it wasn't looking good. "That mob is Padania, isn't it Mr. Alboreto?" asked the boy, noticing a lot of blue jackets and flags bearing the red 5-petal flower.

"Yes it is lad, and if we got up here so easily they can as well" he replied. "We need to move on. If we cross over to that other rooftop we'll be safe." He pointed at a large block of interconnected buildings to the south of them...if the trio could get across the 3 story drop they could cover a lot of distance in the right direction. Marisa was the first to dash over and access their chances.

"It's a 3 meter jump!" she lamented, "We're fucked!"

"Watch your language Mari" rumbled Papa. She thought it was strange that even at a time like this he was critical of her cursing. _He never stops being a father, does he?_

As Marisa looked across to the next rooftop, and down at the perilous drop below, she was surprised to be lifted right off the ground. Papa's big hand grasped the waist of her trousers, and with the other he grabbed her left upper-arm. Without a word he spun her like an Olympic hammer toss. _Oh, shit!_ she thought, inwardly this time. Her father hadn't thrown her this way in ages, since she was 7 years old at the public swimming pool. She'd loved it then, and begged him to do it until he was too tired to do any swimming of his own, but now...across rooftops and over a 3 story drop she wasn't so sure.

There was no time to object...in an instant she was tumbling through the air, and landing heavily on her back with a few feet to spare. Dazed, she lay on the wet gravel of the rooftop for a few seconds, just letting the rain hit her face, until Mehmet came soaring over and landed right on top of her. "Sorry" he muttered awkwardly, as the two lay face to face in that embarrassing position. _He'd better not try to kiss me_.

Mehmet rolled off and struggled to his feet, offering Mari a hand and pulling her up. "Oh no!" she gasped when it finally dawned on her that Papa was isolated on the other rooftop now. He had always seemed to her a fit and powerful man, but for the first time in her life Marisa came to the painful realization that he _was_ a man of 55 years, and there was absolutely no way he could make that leap.

Elio had a plan though. He jumped up and grabbed a stout-looking telephone line, bouncing his entire weight on it a few times to ensure that it would hold him. Once he was confident, he flipped his whole body over the wire, and dangling one leg for balance, crawled himself across hand-over-hand. Marisa's jaw dropped as she watched her own father do something she'd only seen in commando movies. _Where did he learn __that__?_

In less than a minute, he was across, but he still wasted no time, "Let's get going..."

**_Silver Candlesticks_**

The wet and bedraggled trio made it to the bar an hour later, but it was not a place of safety. A mob had reached Alboreto's neighborhood, and for some reason his tavern was a focus of their rage. "Stay close" he ordered the two children, although they needed no urging. Warily, Elio slipped into the crowd, and came to the front where a handful of young punks were throwing rocks against the door. He recognized these as the fools who he'd run off his patio the previous week, so Elio stayed behind them, where they could not see his face. "What's going on here?" he demanded.

"This Italian traitor is harboring Muslim immigrant terrorists in there!" spat one of the blue jacketed boys, a crazed look in his eyes, "We're gonna burn him out!" That crazed look changed to one of horror though when he recognized the man he was talking to. Silently, he got the attention of his comrades, and the fusillade of rocks ceased. They were all silent, none knew exactly what to do, having been humbled by this man once already.

Elio took advantage of their confusion by walking straight past...slowly & menacingly, with Mehmet & Marisa clinging to the tail of his coat. Without hesitation the barmaids quickly opened up the door, and he shoved the two kids inside. "Come on!" hissed Tessa, holding the door open for him as well, but Elio did not move.

"No...this has gone far enough." he growled, and pulled the door shut.

By now the thugs in blue jackets had found their courage, and they once again dared to set foot on the patio, determined not to lose this time. "Step aside old man" muttered one of the boys, petulantly, "or we'll burn it down with everyone inside."

"You're dumber than you look" scoffed Alboreto, "first of all, how are you going to burn a brick building with a tile roof and steel shutters? Second, I told you a week ago to get the hell off my patio."

"Not this time, _asino buco_" growled the teenager, "you're protecting foreigners in there and we want them out of our country. Step aside or we'll get rid of you too."

The grey haired man laughed mockingly, "Get rid of me? Who, you? You'd better bring an army."

"Seems like I've got a bigger army than you right now" hissed the youth, backed up by his blue-jacketed cohorts and a sympathetic mob.

Alboreto knew he had to force action, so he challenged; "Then why don't you do something instead of just standing there shaking in your boots?"

The youngster reached behind him and pulled the .38 caliber revolver he'd had tucked into his pants all along. Watching from the peep-hole, Marisa screamed, and tried to get out the door...it took both Yvette and Silvanna to hold her back. Mr. Zlatar jumped from his seat when he saw this, but it was his wife that held him from charging outside to help.

Unbeknownst to everyone, Elio needed no help. The young man's draw was slow and clumsy...Alboreto had side-stepped it before anyone even recognized there was a gun. He delivered an upward open-palm strike to the jaw of his attacker, and when the youth crumpled over in pain Alboreto stripped his pistol away. The other young thugs in blue jackets stepped in to help, but found the revolver leveled at them...safety off...weapon cocked. They all took a big step back.

Elio regarded the pathetic figure writhing in pain on his patio, clutching his broken jaw and moaning. He pressed the revolver to the boy's head. There was no reason not to fire...it would drive away the mob and solve a lot of problems, after all.

No reason except the fact that his own daughter was watching. Years ago Elio had turned away from a life of violence, a career he had been very good at. Nobody, especially those inside, knew about that part of his life. It would be very easy, and very convenient to blow this boy's brains out right here...just as he'd done to many young men before.

Marisa's words rang in his head "_Soon the whole city will be divided into the people who support Italy and those who want to break it up...and then it will be too late...we'll already be split all up!_" He uncocked the pistol, letting the hammer down slowly, aware that killing now would certainly make his life easier, but only make a bad situation worse for his city as a whole.

He knelt and whispered in the injured thug's ear "I don't suppose a dumbshit like you has read _Les Miserables_, eh? Well read it, and remember this...I'm buying your worthless soul. But I'm no _Bishop Myriel_...instead of giving you silver candlesticks I'm letting you keep your brains inside your skull in the hopes that you'll put them to good use someday. In exchange I'm keeping your soul. I own it...and if you don't go make something useful of your life I'm going to hand it straight over to the devil himself." Elio leaned closer and hissed "After all...he's a _close, personal friend of mine._"

Alboreto stood, and motioned to the other blue-jacketed punks. "Get him off my fucking patio." They quickly obeyed, picking up their injured friend and dragging him away. _Great. _thought Elio,_ now there's only the rest of this mob to deal with. Might have to make these 6 bullets really count._

From a nearby avenue came salvation in the form of another, opposing mob. Pro-Republic loyalists flooded the street, led by a fiery-eyed Catholic priest in full vestments, who Marisa recognized as the same Father Luccio who had so often yelled at her for gambling against the side of his church. Seeing that they were outnumbered the pro-Padania group scattered.

Elio gave a mighty sigh of relief, and knocked on the door. Tessa opened up quickly, and Marisa pulled him inside. She said nothing; she just threw her arms around him and held on as tightly as she could.

**_Truth_**

As intense as the rioting had been that last night, such was the calm of the next morning. The rain was over, and Sunday came with a new breath of optimism as the faithful shuffled off to church services, and businesses cautiously opened their shutters.

For Elio, there was some explaining to do. He and Marisa packed a lunch and walked to the verdant park that encompassed the _Autodromo Monza_ racetrack. "As you've probably guessed, I haven't been entirely honest with you" he admitted. "A long time ago...before I moved to Italy, before I met your late mother, I was part of the British Army, a special unit called the SAS."

"Is that where you learned all that stuff?" asked his daughter, "Like...about guns, and climbing across wires, and how to mend a cut with super-glue?"

"It sure is," replied Elio, "and after that I was in the Secret Service for a few years."

Mari responded with astonishment; "A spy!" It did not seem possible that her own father, who tended bar, helped with her homework, and tucked her into bed every night was once a _secret agent_.

"You could call it that...mostly I solved problems for my government, which involved a lot of violence like you saw last night" continued Elio. "I began to get very tired of that violence, so when your grandfather passed away and left me this bar I decided to leave that life behind. Last night, I almost slipped back into it."

"What stopped you?" she asked.

He laughed. "The things you said, about dividing ourselves being just what the Padania wants."

"Really?" Marisa muttered, "Sometimes I don't know _what_ the heck to think. It's scary to think about people making decisions based on what I say!"

He put his arm around her and replied "Every generation hopes the next generation will do better at running the world than they did...and I'm confident that when it's your turn, you'll do just fine."

Alboreto didn't know if it was worth opening this afternoon, but when they got back to the bar his question was answered. The old domino players were already on the patio, impatiently waiting for their first grappa of the afternoon. With a laugh, he let them in for a day of business as usual.

Of course, the riots, and their quick end, were the prime topic of conversation that day. The hot rumor was that a cell of real Five Republics Faction terrorists from Milan had been in town, stirring up violence & orchestrating the riots. Allegedly some top-secret government outfit had come in and eliminated them all last night, and without leadership the Padania protesters lost interest and drifted away.

"You know what I heard?" ventured one of the old men, "The government used young girls for their hit squad...and they wiped out every last one of those _bastardos_!"

"Ha!" laughed another, "Maybe young Marisa could get a job with the government, she's _very_ tough!"

Mari delivered the men's next drinks from her tray and wiped the pistachio shells off their table. "Now you're just being silly" she chided with a smile.

**_Daydream's End_**

There was a lot of clean up to be done in the city...burned out cars to be dragged away, trash to be picked up, broken windows to be mended...but for Marisa there was one last bit of clean-up that needed to be done before this whole episode could be considered _ancient history_.

After she got out of school on Tuesday, Marisa met Silvanna Mangielli for a private meeting at a cafe near the _duomo_. "I'm happy you finally want to talk with me" said the reporter with a smile, "and it's lucky you called me at my hotel...my mobile phone hasn't been working at all since the last night of the riots." Marisa smirked, _I can explain __that_. Silvanna picked up the menu and continued "You know, your father brought me here too...there's a lot of good things on the menu. What would you like, maybe an ice cream?"

"I'd _like_ to tell you goodbye" replied Marisa in a confident voice.

"Excuse me?"

"I'd like to say goodbye," repeated the girl "since you'll be going away now."

Silvanna put down the menu and looked at her kindly "Marisa, dear, my article might be done, but that doesn't mean I'm leaving for good. Your father & I have become very close...don't you want him to be happy?"

"I don't want a Padania terrorist around my father" she retorted. The woman gave a shocked look, like she had been hit by a brick, so Marisa continued; "I thought it was weird that you knew about the street punks hassling my Papa, when he never even told anyone. Someone had to tell you...it was _them_. I didn't figure out what was going on until Saturday night though, when we got home and the mob knew the Zlatar family was hiding inside. How did they know, Ms. Mangielli? Tessa & Yvette would never betray them...and they certainly didn't sell themselves out...it had to be you."

Silvanna looked at her gravely, and replied "Mari, all of that is what we call _circumstantial evidence_. You can't just go around accusing people of being terrorists!"

"I know," she chirped, "that's why I stole the memory card out of your cell-phone. I did it that same night; while you were getting _way_ too cozy with my Papa. "

A fierce rage took over the woman's eyes, "Damn it you little brat! You give that back to me or I swear you won't make it home alive tonight!" she growled.

"Too late!" said Marisa with a smile, "I brought it to the police yesterday...and they'd like to talk to you."

Silvanna felt a hand on her shoulder, and the local police Captain sat down next to her at the table. She looked around franticly, and reached inside her purse. It was not a policeman who had his hand on her shoulder, at least not one in uniform. "Silvanna Mangielli, alias Silvanna Giardino, alias Lola Tagilari, we'd like you to come peacefully" said a tall blonde man in dark sunglasses and a light colored suit. "And don't bother pulling that .32 out of your purse. You _know_ what that is standing over by the automobile, and you _know_ you'd be killed before you took another breath."

Marisa took a look at the auto that the man motioned toward. It was a pretty silver Mercedes, but next to it stood only a blonde girl, about Marisa's own age, with an odd, short haircut. The girl concentrated intently on the man, but smiled and waved when she caught Marisa's glance. Puzzled, Mari waved back.

"I had every chance to kill you _and_ your father" hissed Silvanna, as the grim sunglassed man and two policemen took her away, "and I should have _done it_!"

"Goodbye Ms. Mangielli" replied Marisa with a spiteful smile. The fake reporter fought a little when they tried to put her into a police car, but oddly, it was the young blonde girl who stepped in and gave her a rough shove. In moments, the blonde man & his strange young companion were gone, leaving Marisa with the police Captain.

"Well, _signorina_, that was a very impressive bit if investigative work" he complimented, "the woman you led us to was a _very_ dangerous terrorist operative, and there is a very nice reward for her capture...25,000 euros, I think. You'll get your photo in the newspaper as well."

"I don't want any of that, Sir" replied Mari, "I'd like to remain anonymous...that is to say...I'd like it if my father never found out about this."

He seemed surprised, but not too surprised. "I understand. But what about your reward?"

The girl pulled a pencil & paper from her back-pack, and scrawled down an address. "Give the reward to the people at this address. They're the Zlatar family...they lost their home and everything they owned to a fire-bombing during the riots. Again...anonymity, please."

The police Captain was very impressed. "Young lady, are you sure I can not tell your parents about this? I'm sure they would be extremely proud."

"I have enough to be happy about" she replied simply. With solemn respect on his face, the Captain stood up, and offered his hand to Marisa. "Miss, I don't even know your name, and you probably wouldn't tell me anyway, but it is great honor to have met you...may I shake your hand?"

Marisa felt a great swell of pride as the police Captain shook her hand like an adult, and a respected equal.

* * *

She got back to the bar in time for her usual shift. "How was school today?" asked Elio, bending down so she could give him an afternoon kiss.

"Kind of weird" she replied, "everyone is still talking about the troubles, and how quick it all blew over, even the teachers."

"They'll be talking about it all week" he conjectured, "but things will be back to normal after your school holiday next week."

"I'd completely forgotten about that!" she laughed.

"Forgot a week off from school?" chuckled her father, "I guess you're _not_ looking forward to going diving in San Remo for 4 whole days..." Marisa smiled, and threw her arms around him, happy in the knowledge that no matter what changed, for better or worse, they would always be there for each other.

* * *

It was fun to daydream, but Marisa was happy to be a cyborg, even if it _did_ mean the occasional long stay in a boring hospital room. Just as she noticed herself getting hungry, Elio popped his head in, carrying a bag from the SWA dining hall.

"Are you awake?" he called out, and with a smile, Marisa sat up to greet him. "I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I got a little bit of everything."

She was quick to reply; "It smells great, I'm starving!"

"Nice to know _some things_ don't change" he laughed.

As cyborg & handler sat down to eat lunch together, Elio asked "So what have you been doing to entertain yourself?"

"Well," she admitted, "for the last few hours I've been dreaming up a story in my brain."

"Oh yeah? Maybe you can tell it to me sometime" he replied.

The girl shrugged her shoulders. "I dunno...I've probably forgotten half of it by now. Plus, it started out short but wound up being _way_ too long, and it got kinda silly near the end."

"Well, keep working at it," her handler encouraged, "you might discover you have a new talent, one that's not as destructive as your other ones."

"Hey!" she protested with a laugh.

As soon as they had finished Elio glanced at his watch (a very basic Timex, he only wore an expensive watch when diving) and muttered "I'm gonna have to go again. Since you've been laid up Jean & Ferro are getting their money's worth out of me as a substitute teacher. I had to teach Giuseppe Croce's geography class this morning, and this afternoon I'm covering Olga's driving clinic."

"Alright" she sighed, sorry his visit had been so short, "come to see me again before you leave tonight, okay?"

"It's a sure thing, lass" Elio promised, tossing her the foam rubber ball playfully, "think about what you'd like to do once you're out of hospital...I'm asking Jean for that day off, and when he says _no_ I'm going over his head and asking the Chief."

Once he was gone, and Marisa was alone again she gave the ball a squeeze. Optimistically, she lined up on the empty garbage basket in the corner, took a deep breath, and launched her shot. This time it soared straight across the room and landed perfectly inside the target, without even bouncing off the rim. She smiled. _It won't be long now._

**END**


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